Heavy In Your Arms
by My Porcelain Persona
Summary: Emma Sherwood moves across the street from a certain vampire...Jerry/OC
1. Chapter 1: Hometown Glory

**The names of the chapters are the songs that go with the story.**

**Chapter 1: Hometown Glory by Adele**

It was truly beautiful, the sky. I stared out at from the plane's window and relished in the sunny view. Closing my eyes and letting the songs from my I-pod overtake me, the world around me drowned out as I enjoyed my own special moment of peace.

After four years of college, I landed a job in Las Vegas, of all places. It was a secretary's position in a law firm. When I first told my family and college friends where I was moving, they laughed, thinking I was joking. And really, it _was_ a funny thought. Emma Sherwood, of all people, moving to Las Vegas. Shocking me the most, in all honesty. I'm not exactly the type of person to move to a place like Vegas.

However, when I was offered the job, I was determined. If I wanted to get my foot through the door of adulthood and start living on my own, then this was how I was going to do it. I would keep my chin up and live the life I had worked towards. Even though it was probably in the craziest place known to man…at least to was to _me_. And it didn't hurt that I chose not to live in the city itself but in a small suburban neighborhood twenty minutes away from city limits.

The process of traveling is always a long, drawn out one. I have a theory that it takes me longer to plan out a trip, organize my belongings, and travel to the desired location than the trip itself. Unlike vacations, though, this trip was going to be permanent. My heart pounded with excitement at the thought of that. _Independence_. It had finally all come. College was great, really. Not that I am a fervent partier. I'm not big on parties, at least the ones my fellow classmates had. Don't get me wrong, I really liked having fun, but getting heavily drunk and sleeping with every person within reach wasn't my idea of fun. Plus, my dancing is really dorky.

In all, I was very content with my choice to move. I had a great job waiting for me in Las Vegas, and a whole new house just for me. The neighborhood sounded great: very tranquil. It was really just what I needed. And the house itself, a two-story! An artist at heart, I was too excited to have a room for my own art studio. My work was becoming a bit of a nuisance for my roommate, Abby. Paintings, sculptures, and an infinite number of ceramic pieces covered every inch of our small, crowded two-bedroom apartment. By the time we graduated, her cat had broken at least two dozen pieces of my work. I am, however, still suspicious as to how that cat managed to drop one of the many doomed pieces, originally in the hallway (Abby had stubbed her toe on it numerous times,) out the window. I chose to forgive and forget though; just grateful it hadn't been one of my favorites.

Moving all my stuff out of the apartment was tough work. When we had finally packed every last thing, including my art, clothes, and furniture, it looked pretty bare. Apart from the dark blue walls I had painted four years earlier, not one piece of decoration was left. Knowing my nonchalant roommate would be silently overjoyed by this, I just had made her a little something to remember me by. It was a painting that looked like the album cover of her favorite band. Not many words were exchanged, but a couple tears were shed, and I'm glad they weren't all mine.

I smiled to myself after recalling this memory. My hands tucked inside my lap, I listened to the captain tell us on the radio that we would be landing soon. Thanks to our descension we could all finally look down at identifiable buildings. In the sunlight, Vegas didn't seem too intimidating. The older man next to me smiled at my expression. I must've looked relieved, or maybe frightened. I couldn't even tell myself.

"First trip to Vegas?" he asked, in a soothing voice. He reminded me of my Uncle Ben.

I returned a smile and replied, "Yes. Actually, I'm going to be working here in the city."

He hesitated, and responded with a feeble, "Oh." I was confused at his reaction, then ran over the conversation in my head. I had said '_working'_ there. He obviously thought I was some sort of exotic dancer. My mistake.

"I'll be working as a secretary at Willard's Law Firm." His face turned apologetic and relieved.

"Ah, James Willard! One of the most respected lawyers of the city. Good for you, Miss-" Reaching to shake my hand across the seat awkwardly, I took it and said, "Emma Sherwood." He again smiled and then looked outside the window. "Well, without the night, her lights don't shine. But I'm sure you'll have the time of your life havin' a good look tonight." We spent the remainder of the flight looking at the buildings below. He pointed out different hotels and his favorite pub he liked to go to when he visited.

Finally, the plane landed. As always it took a long time for everyone to retrieve their bags from the overhead compartment and make their way slowly out of the plane. I reached for my bag, but the kind old man that had sat next to me grasped it first, and gave it to me with a smile. I thanked him, and thought to maybe ask his name, but I couldn't see him after the successful departure from the plane. It was disappointing because he would've been the only person I knew in Las Vegas.

**Author's Note: Reviews are most welcome:) All future updates and such will be posted on my profile. **


	2. Chapter 2: Falling

**Ch.2: Falling by Florence + The Machine**

Getting to my new house from the airport was easy enough. I had made arrangements for my belongings so the U-Haul would be there when I arrived. When my taxi driver pulled into the neighborhood, my heart once again started to pound. My life was about to change forever, I could feel it!

The neighborhood was just as I imagined it. So new, so quiet, so …_beige._ I guess I would just have to get used to that. Growing up in Virginia, everything was green. All the houses looked so similar, but when we pulled up to mine, I couldn't help but smile uncontrollably. It might not have looked unique, but it was my own. My own house that was standing before me, just waiting for me to come in and fill it with life and joy. Speaking of belongings, I looked at the U-Haul with everything I claimed inside. I was going to have way more fun unpacking my things than I had packing them.

I figured I'd start with the big things first. With some help from the U-haul guys, we moved some chairs and a table in. I had a bit of trouble.. I am, by no means, a big lifter. So when it came to my bed frame and mattress, the movers decided I could just supervise. By the time we had gotten most of my belongings inside and situated nicely, it was almost sunset. I decided that I could handle the rest myself. There wasn't that much left, just some kitchenware, and of course, my art.

I brought in the box with a few things from my old kitchen. Abby was a take-out type person, but I thought it would be unfair of me to just take every last bowl or plate, so I only brought the essentials. These didn't take a while to unpack. Walking back outside, I relished in a warm breeze that made my hair tickle my face. This final trip back into my new house was going to be my favorite part. Five whole boxes filled with all my art were left alone on the curb. I started with the smallest one, containing all my utensils, clay, and canvas. I then walked into my new art studio. It was perfect. Facing towards the front of the house, the colors of the descending sky of pink, gold and orange were streaming into the room. Those colors would be inspiration for years to come. White walls, but not for long. I sighed in content, than continued on with unpacking. I set up my canvas just like _that, _placed my pottery wheel over just over _there,_ hung my paintings just like freaking _Picasso._

After three of the five boxes were off the curb, only two remained. Thinking I could magically bring them both up by myself, I placed the smaller one on top of the bigger one. I lifted, but with a startled cry, I stumbled and almost fell forward, about to ruin two whole boxes of art. As soon as the cement was going to have an unpleasant introduction with my face, I felt the whirling world suddenly still, and pressure on the lower box. Still staring at the ground, I sensed a figure standing right in front of me.

The person helped me up by taking the boxes from my trembling hands and then carefully placing them down on the ground. I caught my huffing breath and then let my eyes travel from the ground to a pair of worn jeans. My eyes traveled further, up to a white wife-beater with several dirt stains. Muscles adorned the body beneath these clothes, and dark hair sprouted from the well toned, but otherwise quite pale, arms. As if my breath wasn't shortened enough, I lifted my eyes to rest on this man's eyes. I softly inhaled, my body remembering to breathe when I saw those eyes.

Staring back at me was the most beautiful man in the world.

He was smiling back at me, his expression kind. He had dark hair that framed his face, and expressive, dark eyebrows to match. Pale skin contrasted from the deep brown colors of his hair and eyes. His _eyes_. If one didn't look close enough, or pay attention to the remarkable details of them, they would say they're black. I saw, though, that they were in fact the same shade as his hair. The deepest brown, a dark abyss that I could have, and almost did, gotten lost in forever on that curb.

Thankfully instinct kicked in. This man standing in front of me, glorious as he was, might have just saved me from a trip to the city's hospital. Remembering how to form words, I smiled genuinely, for it wasn't hard to smile at him. Not at all.

"Thank you so much! You really saved me, there." He grinned again, and replied with a voice that sent a shock of warmth through my heart. "Not a problem. I was working on my yard across the street, and saw you were having trouble." Embarrassed and a bit amazed that I hadn't noticed him while moving the boxes, I reached my hand forward.

"I'm Emma Sherwood. I just moved here from Virginia." He reached forward, but instead of casually taking my hand, his slowly wrapped around mine. His stare never wavered from mine, and I had to control myself to not close my eyes at his slightly cool but careful touch. It was like heaven. "Jerry Dandridge. Nice to meet you." He grinned at me again, displaying a perfectly white smile.

Standing there silently, with our hands together in a still greeting, I looked down and laughed a little. I really don't know why. Most likely uncontained happiness. Glancing back up, he was smiling back at me. I gently released my hand from his wonderful hold. Glancing down at the boxes, he turned towards them and leaned down to pick them up.

"So, you need some help with these?" I couldn't help smiling. He probably didn't think I had any other facial expression.

"Yes, thank you again. It's just some art I was going to move to the studio."

We both began the short walk to my front door. "So, are you a big artist in Virginia?" He asked, probably just making small talk.

I laughed a little, looking back into his eyes. "No, no. If anything, it's really just a hobby. I begin work as a secretary at Willard's Law Firm tomorrow."

I opened my front door and stepped in, and turned towards Jerry. He stood there, with the two boxes, and glanced around before those eyes finally fell on me. "Thanks again. Please come in. If you wouldn't mind taking them upstairs-?" He stepped into the house, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Sure, no problem. In the studio, right?" he replied.

"Yeah. It's just up there. I'll show you." I lead the way up my staircase, Jerry following close behind.

As we entered the small room, he paused and regarded a small, unoccupied space. "There?" He questioned, and I nodded, beaming. He placed the boxes down, then looked around at my already crowded art studio. As he walked slowly around, examining my paintings and ceramics pieces, I leaned up against the wall. I was a bit nervous to have him look at my art. Apart from my family, classmates, Abby (and that cat), no one else had really ever seen my work.

He stopped and examined a painting of a dark rose. It was black, with a red ribbon around its stem. It was always one of my better paintings. Jerry grinned and glanced my way. "This is all really impressive. You have talent, Emma."

I returned his smile softly, but disbelief clouded my skull. "Really? Wow…I don't know…"

Jerry gave me a serious look. "No, really. It's truly great. You should think about going pro." No one had ever told me that before.

"Thank you," I chuckled, then looked back at Jerry. "Again, thanks so much for helping me with those boxes. Is there anything I could get you…?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine," he said, reassuring me, then began to make his way out of my studio. He nodded at me before exiting the room. I followed him down the stairs before he reached for the door knob.

"Great meeting you, Emma Sherwood," Jerry said, opening the door and letting himself out. I grasped it and replied when his face turned to face me. "Great meeting you, too, Jerry." He grinned again, then turned back to walk to his house. My eyes followed him as he retreated to his yard and saw it was almost completely dark outside.

After closing the door, I realized that the warmth inside my heart had grown to spread through my entire body. It felt like home. _He_ felt like home.


	3. Chapter 3: Cosmic Love

**Chapter 3: Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine**

I woke early to the alerting tones of my alarm clock. Sighing, I sat up and rubbed my eyes and took in the surroundings of the spacious bedroom. "First day on the job," I mused and let in the thought of my very first day as a legal secretary.

Relentless butterflies flew in my stomach as I quickly groomed and fed myself. I dressed in an outfit I had carefully picked the night before. A white blouse with a gray business jacket and matching gray skirt, with black half-inch heels. I'd seen the same outfit in a catalog somewhere. I capped it off by gently weaving my medium-length blonde hair into a half-up, half-down do.

I called the taxi service to come pick me up because there was not a car in my garage yet. When the driver arrived I took in a deep breath before opening the door and leaving my newfound place of comfort. Stepping into the early sun, I regarded the house my neighbor had retreated to last night. Warmth yet again spread throughout my being as I recalled my first encounter with _him._ Noticing his windows were painted black, I guessed he worked a job in the nighttime. There was also a big black truck in the driveway.

The cabbie suddenly honked, and I was taken out of my trance. I got into the car and was whisked away to the city that held my future.

When the driver, Sammy, pulled up to the curb, I thought I might vomit. The towering building before me seemed too big for me. Too big for a girl who just decided to come to Vegas. _Be a secretary_. What was I thinking?!

"It ain't gonna bite 'cha." Sammy, the cab driver, grumbled to me as he watched me hyperventilate. I fought the urge to shrink into a small ball. Instead, though, a picture suddenly came to my mind. A face. A smiling one. A face so beautiful, so mesmerizing, not even the great artists of the past could possibly emulate it. Adrenaline surged through my body. Exhaling sharply, I slapped a wad of dollar bills in Sammy's hand and exited the car. He sped off without so much a word goodbye. What was it with these Vegas people?

Swooshing through the swiveling doors, I inhaled as I observed the first floor. That clean, cut smell of pure professionalism hit my nose. These people dressed like they were out to get something. They whisked past me, walking with purpose on the spotless tile in their expensive suits and stylish footwear. _This shit just got real,_ I thought, and had a slight moment of fidgeting, hoping my outfit would suffice. I caught eye-contact with the receptionist, who smiled and waved me over. As I approached the desk I noticed the name, "Elizabeth Tilly," was perched right in front. She had curly red hair that was spun in a bun-like do. I wondered if I could learn how to do that with myhair.

"Hello! Do you have an appointment?" she asked, and I replied, "Yes, actually it's my first day. I was hired as a legal-" But Elizabeth interrupted me.

"Secretary in Mr. Willard's office, twentieth floor," she smiled.

"Yes, exactly." I answered, and returned her smile.

She leaned in and lowered her voice. "Just a tip: names are key. You learn all of them, it'll be an easy road." Nodding gratefully, I thanked her and made my way towards the elevators. Today might not be so bad after all.

The elevator climbed up twenty floors to Willard's Law Firm. I tried to focus on my breathing, my hands grasping on to my briefcase. When the doors opened, I stepped through and collided with a man holding a stack of paper and files.

"Oh! I am so sorry, sir. I am _so sorry."_ I bent down and started to collect the mess I had made, cursing myself.

The man, who was also picking up the fallen paper, chuckled and said, "Dear, it is quite alright. An old man must have a startle every now and then. If we didn't, there's no telling if we'd start back up again."

We both stood, the paper in our arms in complete disarray. He began, "I don't believe we've met. You aren't filling in for the secretary's job, are you…?"

I quickly replied, "Yes, sir. I'm Emma Sherwood." He smiled and introduced himself as James Willard. _My new boss_. Nearly passing out from embarrassment, I again apologized for my rude introduction. God knows what he thought of his new secretary.

"Quite alright, quite alright. I remember _my _first day on the job. Ha! If that old bag were still alive, he'd _still _swear to despising me," he consoled me, (however ineffectively,) as he lead me to his office. "We'll just get you situated here, yes?" We passed several desks, receiving curious looks from the people occupying them.

After placing me at my new desk, Mr. Willard wanted me to get introduced to everyone in the office. I remembered what the receptionist, Elizabeth, had told me, about memorizing everyone's names. As Mr. Willard introduced me to the legal staff, I made a point to focus on their names. I met with attorneys, paralegals, administrative officers, and controllers. The last would be the Human Resource Manager.

Stepping up to her desk, Mr. Willard introduced me to Sheila Johnston, a bigger African-American lady with straight, short hair and bangs. I liked her immediately. Dressing in bright colors, and a Won't-Take-Your-Shit expression, she had such _character. _Ending her phone call, she eyed me and welcomed me to the office. I thanked her and remembered to stay on her good side.

After the initial introduction and job briefing, the day was going to be a long one. It was my 'Learning Day', but still, I had to catch on fast. The phone rang every 30 seconds, the computer software was confusing, and Mr. Willard seemed to have a hundred meetings that day. I was on the edge of my chair the entire time.

After the clock struck 6:00 PM, the day finally ended. Everyone slowly exited the office, each one taking their time to collect their things. I gathered my belongings and made my way zombie-like to the elevator. I could tell it was going to be a very long week.

Sheila, the Human Resource Manager, stood beside me. She shook her head. "Girl, you look like you had one hell of a first day."

I sighed. "Yeah, it was pretty difficult."

She just rolled her eyes. "You ever need to talk, my door is always open." With that, she exited the elevator.

On the car ride home I finally allowed myself to relax. The sun was beginning to set, and its burning colors forced my eyes closed. I decided to take a short nap… the driver seemed harmless. When we reached my house, I paid for my ride, and lazily got out of the cab. It was only around six o'clock or so.

I tossed my keys and brief case on the sofa. The trash needed taking out. I hauled the garbage bag over my shoulder and walked out to the backyard. As I approached the garbage can and threw the trash bag in, I nearly jumped out of my skin. There, on the ground, was the single most petrifying thing I ever laid eyes on. A snake… long and slithery, was three feet away from me.

I yelped and stumbled backwards until I ran as fast as my feet could carry me to the back door. Panting and clutching my heart, I slowly lowered myself to the chair closest to me. _This is just not my day_, I thought to myself. After regaining my strength, I decided to make myself dinner and call it a night. I shakily turned on the television, but the only good thing on was the news. I opened the fridge and surmised there was pretty much just one choice of cuisine.

"Sandwich time," I mumbled underneath my breath. After grabbing the bread and meat, I decided to treat myself with some slices of green peppers. I breathed slowly and hoped that dinner would distract me from my erratic nerves. I grasped on to a knife and started slicing when the reporters caught my attention.

"This just in," A blonde reporter declared, "Several disappearances have occured in the city of Las Vegas. Two men and three women have all been confirmed to be missing. Police investigators are trying now to discover exactly who is behind this; but for now, all they can offer is to give this advise to the people of Las Vegas: 'Be extremely cautious when you go outside at night,' they say. Police also warn citizens to travel in pairs or groups."

_Disappearances! That's only twenty minutes from my house! _I trembled again, my wish of relaxation going out the window_. As if my nerves weren't shot enough from this day already_.I gasped and cried out as I felt the knife suddenly cut the inside of my palm. There was suddenly a knock at the door. Looking around as I clutched my bleeding hand, I found a dish towel to wrap around it.

I speedily made my way to my front door. Whoever it was knocked again. "Coming, coming!" I said, and unlocked my door gingerly, with my good hand. After the day I had, there couldn't possibly be something good on the other side.

However, leaning against the door frame was my new neighbor. A small exhale of relief escaped me. "Hi!" I exclaimed and opened the door wider.

Jerry Dandridge stood there, grinning at me. "Hey," he began, "Sorry to bother you, I-" His voice suddenly cut off after glancing down at my towel-clad hand. I looked down, too. Blood was seeping through the fabric. "Are you hurt?" He asked, concerned, as his expressive eyebrows pushing together.

I unwound towel to show him the wound. "I - well, yes, I stupidly cut myself while watching the news. I should be okay. Really-"

Jerry took a step forward. "Let me help you with that."

"You really don't have to-"

He cut me off again. "I want to. Please, I insist."

"Alright." He returned my warm grin and stepped inside.

Jerry followed me into the kitchen. I noticed he wasn't wearing the wife-beater anymore, but a gray T-shirt that looked…well…wonderful. His body was heavenly. I tried not to stare. I didn't want to come across as wanton or flirtatious. He wasn't mine to stare at. He could have be in a relationship or something. Besides, how could a man like _that_ be remotely interested in someone like _me_?

As we approached the table, he inquired, "So, you were cutting up food and you accidentally cut yourself?"

I winced. "Unfortunately. I was a bit distracted. It was quite a long first day-" He reached out his hand to me.

I placed my injured hand in his, the towel still wrapped tightly around it. Cool fingers carefully unwrapped the stained towel before casting it aside on the counter. My breathing picked up at our close proximity. I could see him up close now. I could even smell him. A wonderful masculine scent hit my nose, and I breathed him in; my troubles losing their importance. He examined my palm, his left hand holding it, and the right gently caressing around the ugly cut. I fought to keep my eyes open.

"Yeah, no kidding," he murmured.

He must have been referencing my exhausted eyes and disheveled appearance. I bet my hair was a mess, too. "Do you have bandages so I can wrap your hand?" He asked, and I tore my stare from our hands.

"It should all be in the cupboard in the bathroom. Thanks!"

Jerry chuckled as his touch suddenly left me. "No problem."

Smiling to myself, I leaned back against my stove. That warmth was back again. I confessed to myself that I loved it when he touched me.

Jerry returned, holding the plastic bag labeled, "Emergency Kit." He winked at me again as he set it on the table. "So, rough first day, huh?" Jerry reached for my hand again, and I carefully placed it in his. I noticed, as he took out the bandages, that his demeanor changed considerably from casual to quite serious when he focused on my hand. His eyebrows furrowed together in deep concentration as he took the towel and cleaned off the remaining blood, making me practically shiver as his cool grip tightened only slightly.

"Yeah, it was," I said, trying to keep focus. Jerry's cool fingers tenderly wrapped the gauze as his dark eyes focused on his handiwork. "My job was really busy. And I come home and there's a _snake _in my backyard-"

His head suddenly snapped up, and he asked, "A snake? Really?" He actually looked…a bit amused.

"Yeah, a snake! Right by my trash can." I said, expecting a look of terror. Instead, he glanced back down at my hand, getting back to wrapping.

"Wow. No wonder you looked terrified. I'll go out back after this and see if its still there."

Beaming gratefully up at him, I realized he was finished with wrapping my cut. L, Jerry still held my hand in his two strong, pale ones.

He grinned back, and slowly let go of me, much to my hidden dismay. I clutched my hand to myself and wondered if he did this often, go to girl's homes and fix them up after clumsy accidents. "Thank you, Jerry," I said.

"Sure. So this snake. You said it was near the trash can?" I lead him to the backyard.

As he walked out onto the patio, I stopped at the door. "Would it be alright…if I waited here?" I asked.

He practically smirked as he replied, "Sure. I'll just have a look around." He paced around, occasionally pausing in a perfect standstill to glance at a specific spot. I couldn't help but be reminded of statues of the Greek gods. "So," he began, "What was life like back in Virginia?"

"Oh, it was great. I miss the green." He glanced at me, giving me a small smile. I tried to keep breathing.

Trying to keep up conversation, I continued, "What do you do for a living, Jerry?" His eyes cast away again. "I work in construction on the strip," he answered. Smiling immediately, I replied, "My father was in construction!"

"Really."

I nodded. "Yes. All his life. He could've been a doctor, if he wanted to. But it was what made him happy."

Jerry nodded back, pausing in his search to focus on me. I guess my tone might have changed a bit.

"My parents died when I was six." I surprised myself by confessing this. It's not normally something I would bring up in polite conversation. Usually it makes me feel sad, the listener pitying, and the situation awkward. However, under Jerry's dark gaze, and his impossible perfection, something stirred within me that made me feel…naked. Not in the real sense of the word. I would be blushing nonstop if that were true. But somehow, my life seemed small compared to this man. All its complications, all the heartache, drama, and its longevity seemed indifferent. I was, quite frankly, comfortable with baring these truths to him. And perhaps even myself.

Immediately, Jerry approached me slowly, stopping a couple feet away. Our eyes hadn't left each others a single moment. "I'm sorry," he said so genuinely, his face expressing his concern.

I had to softly smile at this. "It's alright. I grew up with my aunt and uncle, and had plenty of family. I had love. That's all that's important," I replied. He nodded, and then finally, without breaking his gaze, said, "No snake here." I suddenly remembered about that wretched thing.

Returning back into the house, Jerry followed me and stopped in the foyer. "Well, your hand's fixed, there's no killer snake to be found…is there anything else?" He asked teasingly, and I laughed for the first time that day.

Shook my head. "No, thank you. You've done quite enough." Jerry chuckled at this but then became a bit serious.

"This week…I'm working nights. So if you're in need of anything-" Although my heart sank a bit, pretended to be completely understanding.

"Of course. I'll make sure to keep out of trouble 'til then."

Jerry chuckled again, and as he made his way out, he replied, "Make sure you do. There was something in the news about people going missing…just try be careful, Emma." The mention of my name had me rocking on my heels. I nodded and caught one last smile from the beautiful man who once again was turning away from my house.

His perfect white teeth glinted off the moonlight and his pale skin did the same. His hair and eyes matched the night's dark shadow upon the earth. Although the fall turned the later hours a bit chilly, I was quite warm. Again. Tearing myself away from his now retreating back, I closed the door. Leaning against it, I sighed. His face was branded in my mind; I still saw his eyes when I closed my own.

I fell on top of my bed not long after. I couldn't fathom all that had transpired. When I tried, my fatigued mind protested, craving sleep. All that I could think of was stress, fear, pain, and then….bliss. _Like a happy ending_, I thought, although it was probably the only coherent one I could make. I shifted in discomfort when I thought about everything else about my day, except for him. Jerry Dandridge. I drifted off to a peaceful slumber with his name trailing off my lips.


	4. Chapter 4: Addicted To Love

**Chapter 4: Addicted to Love by Florence + The Machine**

"What happened to your hand?" A voice nudged me out of my reverie. I glanced away from the computer screen (upon which I had no focus,) and looked up to see the Human Resource Manager staring at my gauze-covered hand.

"I uh…" A brief memory of pain flashed through my mind, and immediately was halted by a pleasant thought. A comforting thought. A thought that both increased and decreased my heart beat all at once. "…accidentally cut my hand with a knife." My face must have looked oddly joyous for my explanation, because Sheila's eyebrow shot up in the air. Desperate to complete the details, I decided to act like I thought the accident was amusing.

"Yeah, it was stupid," I nervously giggled, but inwardly cringed. I hoped she wouldn't see through my little plan. "I cut it while making a sandwich, which is the only food in my house, so I guess I'm screwed, huh?" _Damn, my acting is horrible._

"Or just stick to butter knives," Shelia responded, smiling softly. I subtly sighed in relief. She had taken the bait. "Anyways," she continued, "I've noticed your art. It's good. I want in." Several thoughts passed in my mind all at once. First, complete and utter embarrassment. Sheila had noticed my art. Meaning, she had noticed all the little drawings I had unthinkingly made this past week in my free time. Little drawings consisting of dark eyes, followed by full and expressive eyebrows, and finally a beautiful set of lips. Second, I was surprised and touched. She thought my art was good! But third, however, came confusion. She wanted _in?_

"What do you mean?" I inquired, puzzlement etched on my face.

Sheila sighed. "I mean, I want you to draw me. See," she studied her long and expensive-looking finger nails before returning her gaze to me. "I've been wanting to get one done for years, but being stuck in this office all the time is time consuming. So I want you to do it. Meet me in the break room at 6:00." My blank expression seemed to be an answer enough for Sheila. Apparently I would be spending some time in the break room today.

When the clock hit 6:00, I started to collect my things for Sheila's portrait. Blushing, I guessed it shouldn't have been to much of a surprise to know others noticed my art. I did, after all, bring sketching pencils to work. Solitaire just doesn't do the trick for me.

I halted in shock upon entering the break room. The normal, bland-looking space was transformed…and dark. Purple material of all ranges covered every inch of the table area, on which a lit, lavender lamp and violet notebook with a fuzzy pink pen resided. Sheila was sprawled across a chair (foreign to the break room,) in an extravagant purple dress. Mouth agape and eyebrows to the ceiling, I closed the door behind me.

"Wow. This is…" I started, but could not seem to find words. I felt the urge to excuse myself when laughter bubbles started to form.

"Yeah, I've been planning this since Tuesday," Sheila nonchalantly smoothed out the dress; oblivious to my amusement. "You ready to get started?"

I cautiously made my way into the room and sat on another purple chair. I cleared my throat as I started to draw Sheila.

Art is my getaway. Apart from music, it is simply something I can completely immerse myself in. I can paint my sorrow upon a sheet of canvas, or carve my curiosity into a sculpture, or leave imprints of my joy in pottery. The possibilities of expressing oneself are endless. So, despite my stress (and the bad lighting of the room,) drawing Sheila oddly eased my mind completely. I calmly stroked the page with the black tip of the pencil, capturing every elaborate detail Sheila had deliberately laid out for me. However busy my fingers were, my mind was elsewhere.

The past few days had been lonely. I realized on Tuesday night, alone in my pajamas and watching an old Seinfeld rerun, that it was the first day I had not seen Jerry since my arrival. I could not deny that my heart seemed to become heavier at that moment. Apparently, my subconscious was not at all pleased with this. My dreams were intermixed with Jerry's words, his face, his hands. Jerry Jerry Jerry. I had to stop watching Jerry Seinfeld's sitcom at once.

This morning, I realized with glee that Jerry's late-night work week would be over. The possibility of seeing him formed urgings; urges that resulted in doing my hair and makeup with great care and precision. My girly excitement might have been silly and dumb, but I couldn't help it.

My train of thoughts came to an end though when I finally finished Sheila's portrait. I got up to show her. Sheila sighed, or rather huffed, in relief. I didn't blame her. I mean, those heels she was wearing were quite unnecessary.

Seeing the portrait, Sheila squealed in delight. "Girl! Look at _that! _I look AMAZING!" I laughed at her reaction, but we were soon interrupted by opening of the break room's door.

What's all this noise going on around here?" Elizabeth Tilly, the receptionist from the lobby, stepped in with crossed arms. I noticed her normal, curly up-do was down, and she was wearing a light blue cocktail dress.

Beth, look at _this!_" Shelia all but shoved her portrait in Elizabeth's face.

"So, this is the artist you forced to draw you. Hmm," she observed, "this is good stuff. You look hot, Sheila." Sheila beamed while Beth sidestepped over some purple fluffy material.

"So, you ready?" asked Beth.

Sheila nodded. "Mm-hmm. More than ready. I just hope the guys at _The Pulse_ are ready for _this_," she indicated to her dress while Beth giggled and turned to me.

"Are you coming, too?" she asked. I had already guessed _The Pulse_ must have been some kind of dance club. Not exactly my scene, but Sheila butted in before I could answer.

"Hell yes, she is! With the week you had, you need this."

Flustered, I managed to say, "I don't even have a dress…"

Beth came to the rescue. "I have the most _perfect_ dress for you to wear! It's in the back seat of my car. And look, your hair and face are already perfect!"

My face must've revealed that I was searching for a way out of this, because Sheila grabbed my arm and said, "Don't even _try _it. You need a girl's night out. Come on." And that was the end of it…or rather, the _start _of it.


	5. Chapter 5: Crazy For You

**Chapter 5: Crazy For You by Adele**

I saw Sheila roll her eyes yet again in the rearview mirror. "She could have at _least _worn the heels," she grumbled under her breath. But I did not care. If she and Beth were going to force me into this strapless dress in a moving car, I would at least keep my dignity. Which was, at this moment, my sweater and comfy slip-ons.

"Oh, she looks _fine_," Beth retorted from the passenger seat, turning around to give me a once over. "Besides, it's Friday night! T.G.I.F., am I right, or am I right, ladies!?" She giggled and both she and Sheila shrieked with glee. Despite my discomfort, I softly smiled at their enthusiasm while Sheila turned up the radio.

Back at work, a thousand schemes had run through my head before we even got to the car. A doctor's appointment, a hungry pet that needed to be fed, a broken leg. Anything! Then, in the car, something came to mind.

"Have you guys heard of those disappearances around the city?" I asked, a little hint of well-played fear in my voice. Sheila and Beth exchanged worried glances.

"Yeah," Beth piped up, "But we'll be in a public place, Emma. Don't worry yourself. We'll stick together and everything will be fine." Sighing in defeat, I leaned back into the back seat once more.

So, when we pulled around the corner and towards a _very_ crowded-looking dance club, I told my heart to stop hammering its way out of my chest. And when we parked in the tightest spot possible, I told my face to find a pleasant expression. And when we got out of the car, and walked towards a wild, scandalous-looking line, I told my lungs to keep breathing. _Just a couple drinks,_ I thought to myself. _Then we'll go._

Clutching my purse and pulling the sweater closer around me, I felt like I just landed on a foreign planet; surrounded by aliens. I followed Sheila and Beth while they

both chattered excitedly and made their way to the front. I recognized the bigger man with a clipboard to be the bouncer. Before I could stop her, Sheila stalked right up to the man and planted herself in front of him, with crossed arms. This was not the way they did it in movies. If you wanted to get in the club faster, you have to toss your hair and fake-giggle. Hadn't Sheila watched any of those?

Apparently, the Sheila-Method was quite different. I heard another bouncer tell this one, "Remember, Ice. Nobody gets a free pass," before walking into the club. The bigger bouncer looked at Sheila and said, "You heard what the man said."

I was about to take a step back towards the line, but Sheila stopped me. "Wait," she commanded, and looked "Ice" straight into the eyes. "Hello, _Anthony. _Seeing as how we both share the same mother, I'd say this would be a great time to call her up and tell her that cute story about how you and Marcus smoked it up in her basement last Thanksgiving."

Suddenly exasperated, Anthony replied, "Damn, Sheila! Why's it gotta be this way?"

Looking up from her nails, Sheila said, "It doesn't. Let me and my friends in, and I'll keep it to myself."

Sighing in desperation, Anthony whispered, "Fine. Just don't let anybody see you."

Sheila smirked and looked over her shoulder at me and Beth. "Let's get our party on, ladies!"

The sound of cries of disbelief and complaints of unfair treatment behind us

were soon drowned out as we entered the club. Instead, a loud bass shook the building. It was a popular song, and had Sheila and Beth singing along while they walked to the bar, me following close behind. I had no idea what the song was except that it was very repetitious and loud. It seemed to do the trick though, because at least fifty people were dancing in the middle of the floor. Panic echoed through my stomach as I saw just exactly _how _these people were dancing. This did not look fun at all.

"You look like you're in pain," Beth snapped me back into attention, and I looked to see that Sheila had a drink for me.

I took it. "Sorry. I guess I'm just not used to dance clubs."

Beth nodded in reassurance. "Just enjoy it. You don't even have to dance, if you don't want to."

Sheila snorted. "Speak for yourself. I am breaking me off a piece of _that_ tonight," she indicated towards a flirtatious-looking guy to our right.

I half expected them to leave me immediately, and go find dance partners. When I asked, though, Sheila shook her head and said, "Girl, that's not how this _works._ You have to do a little _observation._ Kind of like…a predator to a prey. And honey, I am on the _prowl…_" Beth snorted into her martini, but followed Sheila's gaze into the mingling crowd. I placed my barely touched drink on the table and looked towards the DJ, willing him to play something worth listening to.

Suddenly, two gasps came from beside me. I snapped my head back towards Sheila and Beth, but they weren't looking at me. They were looking- _gawking,_ more like, towards the crowd. "What?" I asked, and glanced toward the crowd again. However, they didn't need to explain to me what was going on.

Sauntering through the crowd with an inconspicuous smile and embodying every word that defines confidence, was Jerry Dandridge. I barely heard Beth frantically whisper, "Is he…is he coming toward _us?_" because I felt every melancholy thought and feeling start to melt away under his dark gaze. A thoughtless smile started to spread upon my lips as he approached us, his eyes still upon mine-only mine.

"Hey," was all he said, when he had at last stopped in front of us. Although joy and relief had suddenly seized my brain-surprise flitted through as well.

"Jerry! It's so nice to see you again," I said, and both Sheila's and Beth's heads snapped in my direction.

"You know him?" asked Sheila, blatantly taken aback. I paid no attention to it- I _couldn't_ pay attention to it. His eyes were still on mine.

"Um, yeah," I tore myself away from him for a moment. "Yeah, sorry," I shook my head at myself. "This is Jerry Dandridge, my neighbor. Jerry, this is Sheila and Beth; we work together." As I introduced everyone, I noticed Jerry briefly but respectively greet both of them, and the girls answered back feebly with unabashed awe.

"So, what brings you ladies out here tonight?" He asked.

Sheila suddenly found her voice. "We're uh…celebrating Emma's first work week at the office," she said.

Jerry beamed at me. "Congratulations. Wasn't too hard, I hope?" He asked, almost knowingly. Maybe he caught the slight wince I made when Sheila mentioned work.

"No, it was alright. Just, you know…_exhausting_." I smiled up at him.

His expression suddenly turned a little more serious. "Maybe, uh, this isn't the best place to be at the moment, huh?"

I glanced around at all the energetic dancers and flirting girls. "No, not really." His smile returned.

"There's this place downtown, pretty low-key. It's got great music and good food." Hunger. Can that be a something so easily forgotten? And low-key music! "What do you say, Emma?" Jerry inquired, and I all but hopped off the bar stool.

"Sure! That is…if you guys say it's okay," I turned towards Beth and Sheila.

Sheila seemed to be in some sort of trance.

"Uh…oh, yes, Emma, of course it's okay," Beth said as she came back to life. "That actually sounds more like you than all this. Have a good time." She beamed.

"Alright, you guys have a good time, too," I answered. Jerry nodded to them with a grin and also wished them a good time.

"Have fun, ladies."

Sheila continued to gawk while Beth frantically nodded at him. Jerry indicated that I should lead the way. I paused, though, and turned back toward my friends. "Be safe," I said, before turning back towards Jerry. For a moment, he had an unreadable expression as we walked together to the exit. Soon, though, he recovered his normal way of ease.

I sighed as soon as the door closed behind us. Jerry laughed (I will never get used to that.)

"That bad, huh?"

I smiled back into his all-knowing eyes. "Yeah, it's just not really my scene."

He glanced down as he pulled out his keys from his pocket. "Yeah, me neither. I prefer something more quiet. The truck's right over here." Jerry lead the way over to his spotless, ebony truck. "It's unlocked," he murmured, perhaps accidentally, but definitely close to my ear. A small shiver passed through my spine.

I opened the door but a thought slowed me down; a thought that made my feet feel instantly heavy. I realized I had given my trust to this man. Amidst fear of an unknown force that was kidnapping and possibly killing people in the city I resided in, I was getting into a car with a man I had only known for a few days. This thought should be very troubling. And yet…

And yet, this man is Jerry.

The same Jerry that was already in the driver's seat, watching me with that same unreadable expression as before. I looked up at him again, and he said, softly, "You can trust me. I promise."

I climbed up into the passenger seat.

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_This isn't a date_, I thought repeatedly, trying to convince myself that Jerry was _only_ rescuing me from yet another 'scary' situation. _Don't blow this out of proportion. _

How could I ignore this, though? Not when I breathed in his scent that filled the entire truck. Not when his hand rested so close near mine, and definitely not when he turned to grin at me. _Just…focus on something else. _My subconscious wasn't all too helpful that night.

Jerry parked in the back of a small coffee house. The neon sign in front said, _The Coffee Blues._

Jitters of excitement rose from my tippy-toes and all the way up to my buzzing head as Jerry and I entered the coffee house. That deep smell of coffee filled the small restaurant, and a vacant stage stood at the back. "Thought they'd be playing tonight," Jerry murmured, but I reassured him.

"No, it's wonderful," I said. The hostess greeted us and led us to a table. My heart, lungs, and _everything_ seemed to stop when Jerry put his hand on the small of my back to guide me forward.

His soft touch left though when we were finally seated. I cautiously sat down in my chair, watching as he did the same. The man now across from me leaned back and crossed one of his legs. His mouth formed into that smirk he seemed to always possess; confident, shameless, perfect. Always perfect. Every movement Jerry made seemed so delibrate, so concise. My eyes traced along the details of his face. That is, until I realized what I was doing. Clearing my throat, I glanced away, deciding to observe my surroundings instead of the heartbreakingly handsome man sitting only a couple feet away from me.

A slow song was lazily playing from the speakers, and apart from Jerry and I, only a few other people were there. "How do you know about this place?" I asked in wonder. Jerry, in a thoughtful tone, explained. "Heard about it from a friend." The waitress came and took our orders. Jerry, nothing. Me, tea and soup.

My curiosity went a bit further. "Do you go to dance clubs often?" I asked nonchalantly, taking a bite of soup after the waitress came back. I glanced up at him when he chuckled in response.

"Only once in a while. It…had been a long week. I guess I had a similar idea as your friend, Sheila. I just wanted to relax a little."

I grimaced. "I'm sorry."

His face immediately changed; confusion and curiosity spread across his brow. "For what?" Surprise coated his voice.

"For always bothering you with problems you don't have to deal with. You could be enjoying yourself right now, instead of being here with me."

I thought I detected a flicker of amusement flash through his eyes, but he leaned forward, ever so slightly, and murmured, "You don't bother me." I could feel the warm rush of blood beneath my cheeks. "And I _am_ enjoying myself," he added, smiling softly. The napkin in my lap suddenly became really interesting.

"I should have told you, back at your place," Jerry's tone became a bit more serious. "When I was looking for that snake, and you told me about your parents." I was aware of how he noticed when I stiffened. "I should've told you, my parents are gone, too. Long ago."

Painful memories threatened to flood through my mind, but my only thought was of him. "I'm so, so sorry, Jerry," I said softly, genuinely.

A hint of a smile played at his lips. "It's alright. You know, it eventually happens to everyone." I nodded slowly. He slightly narrowed his eyes, as if trying to see through smoke.

"Do you miss them?"

The intensity of his eyes impossibly strengthened. "Yeah." It took a moment for everything else I had unintentionally tuned out to tune back in. We both listened in silence as a new song started to play in the restaurant. I recognized it immediately.

"_Great_ song," I murmured appreciatively, closing my eyes to the sweet vocals and lovely guitar melody. Smiling to myself, I remembered sitting in my old apartment listening to this song. I had closed my eyes that same way, but never dreamed that I would some day open them to see the very person this song was meant for.

"Do you want to?" Jerry's voice, suddenly so near, caused my eyes to snap open. He was there, standing above me, his hand out in invitation for mine. I hadn't even heard him get up. I stared at it for a second, thoughts racing. The last time I had danced was at my cousin's wedding in the fourth grade. I didn't want him to think I was a bad dancer.

Then, I looked up into the dark abyss which were his eyes. And at the gentle

smile tugging at his mouth. "Okay." I accepted, and placed my hand, familiarly, into his.

He gently pulled me up and away from the table. Guiding me to the vacant dance floor, Jerry turned towards me. I could not help but return his smile, as he pulled me closer, now with two strong arms, into his hold. _Everything,_ was all I could think of, when I tried to describe him. My heart pounded when masculine scent that surrounded me, when he grinned as I came closer, when his smooth, cool cheek came into contact with my temple. I felt the soft touch of his long, pale fingers as they guided my left hand onto his shoulder, then drift down to my waist, puller me closer…holding me. I watched as Jerry did this; but my gaze retreated to his eyes when he held my right hand in his.

_He's everything._

I felt so small and delicate compared to him, what with this height, muscular body, and capable hands that held my own. Jerry slowly began to rock us back and forth, matching our movements to the wonderful song being played. I breathed him in, slowly; again and again. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but knew he inexplicably would when I moved my head slightly so that my gaze was towards his throat. A perfect, porcelain throat. He shifted his head too, then, but the movement only made my breath hitch. His lips were so close to my hairline, I could feel his cool breath upon my skin.

I closed my eyes then, and, out of some sort of happy delirium, rested my cheek against Jerry's shoulder. The song would end soon. _Crazy for you, indeed_.

Sighing, I realized it had ended, and Jerry stopped our movement. He was, though, waiting for me to pull away first. I hid my reluctance, and slowly retracted my hands while he let them slide out of his grasp, and looked to see a grin on his face.

"You look tired," he chuckled, but continued. "It's probably time for you to get home." I nodded, still hypnotized by what had just happened. "Yeah," I agreed, and walked back to the table with him, where he subtly placed a twenty dollar bill without me even noticing him take out his wallet. I retrieved my purse and felt my heart rate go up when he walked towards me, but returned his smile. His hand floated to my back again as he lead me to the door.

The drive back to our neighborhood took a toll. Even with all the bright lights passing through the windows, sleep was creeping up on me. I felt all the exhaustion from that day hit me like a big, black truck. That pleasant, all-encompassing smell didn't help much, either. Dazed, I was vaguely aware of Jerry turning the volume of his radio down before my head drooped, and I was fast asleep.

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Dreams are never-ending.

It was a world of colors, then a land of infinite computers and the incessant the

ringing of a telephone. Then came a circus, the clowns strangely all clad in tight dresses and leering at me with thick, electric-blue eye makeup. Then it was all dark, as if someone had switched a light off, and I could only feel. And smell. And hear. I felt the coolness of touch, and the strength of that touch, and the impossible beauty under my _own _touch. I could smell something familiar, surrounding me, intoxicating me. And, I could hear soft laughter, from a deep voice…

Then all was silent.

I woke with a start, fully dressed, in my own bed.


	6. Chapter 6: Unthinkable

**Chapter 6: Unthinkable (I'm Ready) by Alicia Keys**

Blinking in the sunny light of my bedroom, I sat up in my bed and rubbed my eyes. My watch said it was ten o'clock. I hadn't slept in for a long time…it was such an odd feeling. Then again, I _had_ had one long day. Squinting, I tried to recall what all had transpired the previous night.

The stressful and never-ending work day had happened; my aching muscles and tired eyes could assure me that much. But everything else seemed…maybe not impossible, but improbable. "Highly improbable." I murmured, but happened to then glance down at what I was wearing. Beth's dark blue, knee-length dress wound itself snakelike around me… a possible outcome of fitful sleep. My grey sweater smelled like alcohol, coffee, and…Jerry.

So last night _did_ happen. Heat spread into my cheeks as I remembered our conversation, the dancing, how Jerry held my body so magnificently to his…but wait. There was an ending to this story; an ending I was missing. I furrowed my brow and waited for it to hit me. The memory of making it back into my own bed. The only thing I could remember was feeling so warm, so pleasant, so wonderfully calm…and I had fallen asleep…in his truck!

I hadn't gotten myself into my own house, which could really mean only one thing. Jerry had carried me in. How should I feel about this?

It was strange.

Strange because…I _should_ feel wildly distraught about such a thing. And yet all I could do was close my eyes, lean back into those wonderful pillows, and imagined they were really _his_ arms. I sighed with such peace.

_Riiiiiiiiiiiing! Riiiiiiiiiing! _The shrill ringing of my cell phone jilted me back to reality. "Peaceful moment's gone," I grumbled to myself and turned to the nightstand to grasp onto my cell phone. I truly hated that thing.

I looked to see who was calling. Aunt Nora was finally calling me. She and my Uncle Ben had taken a "Retirement Trip," around the country, and had informed me that they would call me when they could, but would be most of the time outside of cell phone reception. My cousins and I had gotten a good kick out of Ben's new RV, which had started the whole idea. He had found it off the side of the rode with a big neon "For Sale" sign.

My oldest cousin, David, had agreed with me that it was a rather…crazy idea. But two weeks later, after a tearful goodbye between us because I was to be heading down to Nevada that weekend, half of my Aunt and Uncle's belongings were in the used RV. Their three children (and me,) were waving them off to their first adventure. And that was the last time I had seen them.

"Hi, Aunt Nora," I answered the phone.

"Hello, Emma dear, how are you? How's Nevada, baby?" My Aunt's voice seemed to just radiate happiness, as it always had.

"Nevada's great, I love my job, and my house, too." Cutting to the chase was key with Aunt Nora. If she felt you were beating around the bush, then something _must_ be wrong.

"That's _great_, honey! Oh, Ben, stop there, I have to tinkle-" My Uncle Ben's grouchy reply rumbled through the phone, "_No, _I've told you, I refuse to use that toilet! It is utterly disdainful! There are God-awful stains, and bugs- Oh, Emma, sweetheart, once you have time off, you and your cousins should all go on a trip like this. It is simply wonderful!" She lowered her tone, "But, if you ask for my advise, I'd say to take a plane. Maybe a private jet! David's got connections, eh?" She giggled into the phone, and almost on cue, Ben harrumphed in the background.

I laughed along with her. "Yes, we should do that. But tell Uncle Ben that the RV looked great on the road. Very manly."

Nora repeated this joyfully to my Uncle, and I distantly heard him say, "Good girl." I could practically see the smile on his face.

"Well, listen, dear- we just pulled into a gas station and we'll be traveling into mountains soon, but I'd love to hear more about this job and Las Vegas, okay? Have you called your cousins at all yet?" Before saying goodbye, I explained to her that I had, with all three, actually. David called me on my very first day at work. I was on lunch break, and being thoroughly stressed out, I was so glad that he had called. And of course he had called at the very best time for me. David was just smart that way. Well, he _is_ the new CEO of my Uncle's company, so maybe that just goes without saying.

I had called my other cousins, Jenny and Bernice, the day after. Being polar opposites of each other, the conversations were quite different. Jenny was studying at a college in New York, or should I say, _partying_ at a college in New York. My youngest cousin would have had a heck of a time with Beth and Sheila at _The Pulse_, if that explains anything. Jenny excitedly told me that she could not wait to come down to Vegas, and I carefully reciprocated her wishes without implying anything about "Clubbin," as she put it. I then told her how much I missed her and that I hoped her studies were going well, and the conversation was abruptly interrupted by some guy in the background saying, "Yo, Jen, you coming or not?", and she told me she had to go.

Bernice, on the other hand, characteristically and predictably held me on the phone for much longer than her siblings and her parents combined. Bernice was very much like her brother in that calculating, polite, and intellect way- but being seven months pregnant made her a little…unbalanced. She knew to call me at the right time, just like David, but not for a brief "How's Vegas?", but to get the complete story. I loved Bernice to death, but she could be very overbearing, especially now that she was hormonal. So I answered all her questions, told her to kiss the belly for me, and then passed out from a full hectic day at work and an hour long conversation with my cousin.

Satisfied that I had communicated with my family, I hastily took Beth's dress off and took a disgusted look at myself in the mirror. My makeup was smeared and my hair looked like a monster that had latched onto my head. I quickly jumped into the shower and let the hot water massage the knots in my muscles. Today would be one long day, what with all the things I'd need to buy for my house. The list was endless. Cleaning supplies, furniture, the kitchen had its _own_ list, it needed so much stuff; and lastly, a car. It was really good my Aunt and Uncle loved me so much. A secretary who just graduated college would never be able to afford any of it without caring family.

I had just stepped out of the shower when the doorbell resounded throughout the house. Wrapping my sopping wet hair into a towel and grabbing a robe, I stumbled down the stairs and opened the door.

A few vaguely familiar faces smiled back at me from behind huge Tupperware's full of food. "Hi, we're you're new neighbors!"

My mouth seemed to stop working for a second, but soon gained its control again. "Wow! Oh, thank you, so much, I-" Two little boys ran past me, yelling nonsense to each other as they battled their way into my kitchen. A middle-aged woman with the biggest Tupperware full of food tittered and apologized quickly. "No worries, no worries; come in, please! Thank you all for this, you really didn't need to," I said as they shuffled into my house, carefully holding the deliciously smelling food. I guided them into my kitchen while they introduced themselves. Harry and Lena, from next door; Donny and Bill, a few doors down; Matt and his son, Jonah, from the house behind mine, and lastly, Patricia and her two sons, Cole and Alex, who were currently wrestling in my under-furnished living room.

I placed the food into my fridge, with a little difficulty, as Patricia scolded her boys. "No playing superheroes in Miss Emma's house! Please!" She turned back to me, sighing. "I'm so sorry, sometimes those kids are like monkeys. And me! I'm their zookeeper!" I laughed with the others, and told her I didn't mind. "You should come by later this evening," Patricia continued, "It's Cole's birthday and we're having a barbeque in our backyard. There will be other monkeys, too, but plenty of parents to control them, so you can just enjoy yourself and get to know everybody else from the neighborhood?" Her last statement sounded like more of a question, and I quickly accepted her offer with gratitude. "Alright, gang, well we should get going, so Emma can at least get herself ready without any more interruptions," Matt, a nice looking guy, said and clapped his son on his shoulder. "See you tonight, Miss Sherwood." I nodded in response, beaming, and led them all to the door. As soon as my guests were gone, I groaned as I remembered. Now that I had plans this evening, there was even less time to buy all the stuff that I needed.

I ran upstairs, hastily got myself together, and called the cab. Shopping would be easy. I've always been a very sensible spender. It was that coming evening that had my palms sweating and heart thumping at every turn around an aisle at Ikea and the grocery store. _Calm yourself, girl. Jerry's probably not even going. And if he is…no. He's not. _I was so distracted I had forgotten to even check off the items on my list- but when I pulled them out, I realized all the things were already bought and in the cab ride home with me anyways. The bigger things, like furniture and chairs and such, were to be shipped to my house in a few days time. Thank God for that. Cab drivers are awfully cranky on weekends. I giggled to myself when I thought about the look on this one's face when he saw the load of stuff I hauled to his car. I stopped when he glanced back at me.

After unloading all the new stuff, I once again climbed back into the cab, and informed him that this would be the last time he'd need my service, because I would be buying a car that day, thinking he'd take joy in that fact. I swear I saw a smile.

My Aunt and Uncle had already picked a car for me, as a graduation present. After stammering that I couldn't accept such a gift, plus all the help they were giving me financially _already,_ they agreed I'd only pay partially for it. So all I pretty much had to do was show up and sign a bunch of papers. And, after I did said deeds, I found myself in a brand new silver automobile. I remember what David said about that brand new car smell; it was alright, I concluded. But I knew something that smelled better.

Ripping me away from my reverie, the salesman knocked on the car-_my_ car's window, and gave me a thumbs-up. I nodded and returned the gesture before _zoom! ..ing _away, or much rather, pulling carefully from the curb and heading towards the familiar route to my home. It was now around five…I had time to get ready. _Right? Getting a little dressed up isn't too impractical. It _is _a party, after all. _

I pulled my new car into my new garage and raced upstairs. I pulled my hair out of its messy bun and turned the curling iron on before pulling off my sweats. I curled my hair carefully, delicately letting the curls shape themselves nicely. When I caught my own glance in the mirror, I laughed and said, "You're the biggest goof." After doing my hair and redoing my makeup, lightly, I slipped on the sundress that was only ever warn at Church. My old roommate Abby, had she been here, would've raised her eyebrow and knowingly say, "_What_ are you doing?" And I would've replied, "I have no idea."

After rushing past my newly-stocked refrigerator, I realized I was going to a party, and not only did not have a present for the birthday boy, but had no refreshment, either. Exactly like a party crasher, I was going into unknown territory but had not plan. I reached inside the fridge and brought out a huge platter of homemade brownies that I think Donny and Bill had made- or maybe it was Harry and Lena- in any case, I would never finish them on my own, and would hate myself if I had. I grabbed my purse and took a huge puff of air, like I was entering a race. "Here we go," I coached myself, "You ready?" Outside, it was nice and warm, the sun beginning to set; I heard the sounds of a party before I saw it. Laughter and playful cries hit my ears as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk. I then saw, in Patricia's lawn, the full effect. Balloons were scattered everywhere, and signs that read "Cole's Party!" stood proudly where everyone could see. It was actually really cute. They had taped pictures of arrows leading into the backyard so that the guests knew where to go. I followed the signs obediently.

Kids were running everywhere, making the impossible number of balloons scatter in every direction. I dodged the same two children that were in my house that morning. Cole and Alex ran like tiny wild men, apparently oblivious of everyone and everything around them, still playing their game of "superheroes." Although this time they did have actual toys instead of pretend weapons to play with. Parents stood by, looking slightly agitated at their kids but mostly happy, (I noticed the beers in their hands.) Music played in the background and tables of food beckoned me forward. I placed the brownies on next to the Spiderman birthday cake when Patricia found me. "Emma! So glad you could come. And you found use for Donny and Bill's brownies! _Knew_ you'd probably not eat it all, I told them, but they wouldn't listen. They're the nicest guys though, really…" I nodded and smiled throughout all this, but really my mind was somewhere else. Patricia had taken it upon herself to introduce me to the entire neighborhood, and filled me in on as much gossip as she could fit in between introductions.

"Oh, that's Carrie and Michael- lovely couple, lovely- but they _do_ love that hip hop music, especially on late week nights…Gene, bright boy, of _course_, but he never makes an effort to spend any time with other children…Lois and Katherine, almost eighty years old, isn't that crazy? And sisters, too! They've never spent a day apart…" Although knowing some of my neighbors might come in handy, I could only pay a little attention to Patricia's banter. There really was only one neighbor I had on my mind.

After a little while, Patricia invited me over to the dinner table, and she went to go help with the paper lanterns before the sun went down. I helped myself to some tasty looking food. All this time I had watched for him, keeping a secret eye out that any CIA agent would be proud of. But he never showed. I snorted to myself. _Of course he didn't, idiot. _

Patricia walked over to me. "Is something wrong, Emma?" I hastily shook my head, smiling, but a thought popped in my head. This woman seemed to know a lot about this neighborhood. Some might argue that she knew just a little too _much_ about this neighborhood.

"Patricia…would you know if Jerry Dandridge is coming to this party?" I tried to ask nonchalantly, but I still couldn't meet her eye. "Oh, Jerry-" Instant recognition. "I don't know, I haven't spoken to him since he arrived about a month ago." I nodded, trying not to let my disappointment show as a flood of children ran for the jungle gym like it was their last chance of survival. "I will tell you this, though." Patricia dropped her voice. Bingo. This was what I was waiting for. He's married. He's got multiple girlfriends. He's a "regula playa," as I heard Sheila once refer to a guy in our office.

"He's awful quiet. And that truck he drives? It probably is worst thing a person could expose to our environment. You mark my words, my boys will be in coughing fits within a week." With that, she stormed off to break up another wrestling match between her two sons. I roughly let out the breath I had been holding and started to laugh into my plate while I played with little bits of rice.

"Having a good time?" My head snapped up. Here I had been ready for this all night; had been scouting the entire population of that party, had pumped myself up for any kind of confrontation, and still, he surprised me. Jerry Dandridge was standing directly in front of me with a beer in one hand and smiling that beautiful smile of his.

My breath faltered. I don't think I'd ever get used to those eyes, how they were so bewitching and true…how they broke me down so easily…

"You're here!" I said so quickly, and immediately chastised myself for being so stupid. Jerry's smile deepened. "I mean, um…" I shook my head at myself and wished for a miracle. Or maybe a rewind button.

"Yeah, I'm here," he reciprocated, his voice low and soft. If there really was screaming, giggling children racing all around us, and parents murmuring to each other, and music, I honestly had lost all track of that. The only thing I could possibly focus on was the man in front of me.

Without taking his eyes off of mine, Jerry continued, "You look very beautiful, Emma. I like that dress." I felt my smile waver.

Disbelief ran through me, but of course I murmured, "Thank you." Things seemed to be slowing down quite a bit. The colors of the balloons, lanterns, and the darkness of the impending night seemed to whirl around me, and the only thing that stood still was Jerry's form. I blinked, trying to sort out all of this blurriness, and I heard Jerry mumble something incoherent, then my name. God, I loved it when he said my name. I stumbled towards that beautiful voice, and felt strong arms catch my fall, and my face was laid against a hard chest. "Jerry…" was all I could muster before slipping away into the darkness.

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"Thanks a lot, but I've got it from here," I heard Jerry saying distantly.

Where was he? What happened? I opened my eyes slowly, but groaned immediately. I saw a fan over my head and tried not to get lost in its dizzying effects. I moved my fingers and toes- nothing broken. I looked down to see a virescent blanket covering the lower half of my body. I quickly removed it, and sighed in relief. Both legs still intact. _What the hell _happened?

"Yeah, I'll take her home as soon as she feels better. Tell your boy to have a great birthday, alright, Patricia." I heard a door close, and footsteps coming in my direction.

"Hey, you," Jerry's lovely face came into my view. I pulled the blanket back onto my legs, blood rushing to my cheeks as he continued, "Feeling better?" His tone was soft and I saw a pale hand come towards me before it cupped my forehead. Imagine the most pleasurable thing that could happen to you after a very unpleasant occurrence. Like drinking an ice cold beverage after being stranded in a barren desert, for instance. That was exactly how I felt when Jerry touched me, and though I was rather sweaty, his touch was a cool heaven. I closed my eyes immediately at the sensation and allowed myself to relax on- my best guess was _his_- couch. A small moan of relief escaped my mouth, but I was too out of it to care. Jerry said something then, but once again, I only caught my name that was said so perfectly from the voice of an angel.

"Hmm?" I asked, then opened my eyes. I realized that Jerry was smiling down on me, and like a smack back into reality, everything fell back into place. "Oh, um, God…what happened?" Jerry's face was all the more clearer now; and so were my surroundings. He slowly took his wonderful hand away from my face, and I felt lost without it. I sat up to see Jerry walk back from another room with a wash cloth.

"You blacked out at Patricia's party," he said, handing me the cold cloth. "Thanks…wow. That's never happened. I wonder why-?"

He sat in a chair across from me and answered my thought. "I think you locked your knees while you were standing there. It's probably my fault, too- you were pretty surprised to see me." Jerry's smile almost made everything blurry again- almost.

I smiled embarrassed out of my mind, because I knew he was absolutely right. I then remembered something. "Hey, last night…" My voice trailed off, and he raised his eyebrows in waiting. "What happened, exactly? I woke up late this morning, in my bed…and I…did you-?" I couldn't finish the question. But in my defense, I'd like to see anyone speak intelligently to this man without stammering a few times.

"You fell asleep in my truck, and I didn't want to wake you. So I carried you to your bed- I hope you don't mind." He sat so calmly, his words with such ease…his lips, perfectly parted; eyebrows pushed together to create worry lines across his forehead-

_Get a grip, woman._

I shook my head, remembering his last statement. "No, I don't mind, it's just…how'd you get in?" At this, his mouth curled up at the corners, a smirk if there ever was one, as he retrieved something from the floor next to me. I got another whiff of that pure masculine, beautiful scent again, and tried to make my sigh go unnoticed.

He held up my purse and said, "I used your key to get in. Don't worry, I didn't steal anything." I returned his smile this time, as he put my bag back on the floor, and returned to the chair. "How do you feel?" I took in a big breath, closing my eyes to assess my body. I felt fine, actually. Great, even.

"I'm pretty good, maybe I'll try to-" Before I could even drop my feet to the floor though, my head spun again, and I laid my head down once more amongst Jerry's soft couch. "_Oh_," I groaned.

"Drink this," A low voice commanded me. I peeked out of my eyelids to see a tall glass of ice water in front of my face. I leaned forward to accept the beverage, taking small sips before slowly sitting up.

"Thanks, Jerry." He nodded, smiling, and leaned back into his chair, his legs casually resting on the small footstool in front of him.

Clearing my throat, I glanced around me, taking my eyes off of Jerry for the first time since I regained consciousness. His house was modeled almost exactly like mine, but all the houses in the neighborhood were pretty much identical. It was tidy and obviously recently acquired, and by a bachelor, at that. All of the basic furniture was placed in their respectful places but boxes and random pieces of home décor lined the walls. And, of course the widows were all painted black, but it was almost unnoticeable at this hour. I couldn't blame him for any of it. I remembered, vaguely, when my father worked the strip. He was barely ever home and if he hadn't had my mother, our house would have looked exactly like Jerry's. Nice, but…empty.

"I haven't really had time to set things up yet," Jerry spoke, and my attention was immediately his once again. "Not like you. Your skills put me to shame." That half smile of his… I looked down at the cold glass in my hands.

"Yeah, sure," I chuckled, "No, your house is fine. I like its simplicity." Jerry's grin lessened a little, but the lightness was still present in his eyes. I shifted, about to get more comfortable, when the television suddenly came on. I gasped loudly and almost dropped my glass of water, but then I clutched it- viselike- to my chest, eyes wide as a deer caught in headlights.

A bark of laughter resounded throughout the living room. Jerry laughed heartedly from across me, his elbows resting on his thighs. I narrowed my eyes at him, but couldn't help the grin that inevitably touched my lips. Laughing with him, I looked away from his mockery and said, "It's not funny!"

Regaining his suave composure, Jerry apologized. "Sorry," he said, though he did not look it. Not at all. "You must be sitting on the remote."

I searched for it under the blanket, and sure enough, there it was. "Oops," I smiled sheepishly, but my grin fell immediately from my face once when my brain finally caught on to what the reporter on Jerry's television was saying. Terror gripped me. "…Attacks now, have been reported throughout the city. No survivors or witnesses have come forward or have even been accounted for. Investigators say that the bodies of the victims all have similar puncture wounds that vary from the arms, legs, and neck. At least thirty bodies were found partially drained of their own blood, the reports say. This could be the work of an unlikely savage animal, or more likely, a psychotic killer."

The news cut to another reporter at one of the crime scenes. "Oh my god," I whispered and released a shaky breath, and turned the news off, unable to stand it any longer. During this whole time, I had subconsciously been aware of Jerry standing up from his chair and walking over towards me to sit down on the couch. So when I turned to face him, there shouldn't have been any shock nor surprise at his new choice of location, but there was. Very much so.

My gaze ripped itself away from the television and turned towards Jerry. I hadn't been this close to him, well…_consciously _close to him since he we had danced together. But that was entirely different.

Jerry's eyes, hardened and somber, stared into my face. I realized then that he had not been watching the news at all, but instead watched me as I had reacted from the horror of it all. His face was so grave, it was almost as if he was…apologetic, but directed towards me. I couldn't fathom it, but my hand found his without any thought. I softly placed my own on top of his, and felt the size difference between ours, felt the temperature difference, felt the raw strength beneath my fingers.

"Jerry?" I murmured carefully, shifting a bit closer. His only response was to look down at our hands. It was my turn to gaze upon him. We were only a breath apart now. His beauty was still shocking, and sent that electrical current down my body that left me warm inside. I could breathe in his smell all the more easier now. I took in his furrowed eyebrows, his sad eyes, his grim mouth. I knew the second he looked back into my eyes I would tremble at the intensity held within his own.

But he didn't look back up at me. Instead, he took my hand in his own, hovering over his lap. He turned it over to see the palm where a small white line still resided from that clumsy knife accident. I watched, heart beat escalating, as he cradled my hand with both of his own before bringing it to his mouth. I let out a shuddering gasp, eyes rolling in my head before automatically closing. He traced the scar with his lips, the most delicate, soft, cool lips upon my sensitive skin. Then, holding it even closer to his mouth, pressed a gentle but heated kiss into my palm. I exhaled shakily, as I felt the entirety of his godly lips and his surprising warm breath released into my hand.

Slowly opening my eyes; trembling, just as I knew I would, at the intensity of those piercing, smoldering dark eyes. Jerry held my hand in his lap once again and said, "I'll never let anyone hurt you. Do you understand me?" I nodded, ensnared in his powerful gaze. Then, his face softened, lips curling subtly at the bottom. He gazed into my face again, with a new air, roving from my eyes to my parted lips. He glanced back down to my hand before intertwining or fingers. "Come on. I'll take you home."


	7. Chapter 7: Never Let Me Go

**Chapter 7: Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine**

"Miss Sherwood." My boss's voice disseminated through the small speaker perched upon my desk.

"Miss Sherwood? I need you for a moment."

"Miss Sherwood…"

Hot breath on my palm. Masculinity just radiating from his entire, magnificent being. Dark orbs capturing my eyes. The striking contrast of poetic colors that painted his body in ways that bewitches an artist's eye. The brown features against the smooth, porcelain skin…his fingers so strong, yet so soft against mine…and then his lips, the color emanating a slight pinkish hue, brushing against my palm before pressing firmly to its warm center…

"Miss Sherwood, if you wouldn't mind shifting your attention away from the wall and back to wonderful reality, please." My head snapped up from its previous comfortable resting position on my hand. Mr. Willard, my boss, was standing in front of me, his grey eyes peering downcast through his reading glasses.

"Mr. Willard- I am _so _sorry…I must be just…" I was unable to finish the sentence as I straightened my skirt and fiddled with the many papers on my desk.

"…Distracted?" Mr. Willard prompted, and I nodded blushingly. He must be thinking exactly what I was thinking: _Dumb blonde._

Immediately though his eyes, wrinkled from years of smiling, crinkled once again. "That is alright, Miss Sherwood, quite alright indeed. I myself become distracted at times. It is quite easy to divulge oneself into other matters even when something else is happening at the present time. However!" He swayed in that joyful, old man way that I had come to love in my boss. He was just so _happy,_ all the time. And even when he wasn't, he could always bring a smile to my face. "We do, unfortunately enough, have some other matters to take care of…"

I found myself smiling on that last thought before realizing he was reminding of our little field trip planned today. Jumping from my desk and gathering my things, I said, "Of course, sir! Right behind you."

Mr. Willard chuckled as I fell into step with him, our destination being the court room. My boss was representing a man who owned a diner within the city. One night, a couple woman had conned him into thinking they wanted his 'special attention,' before leering him into the alley and consequently mugging him. I took my place in the court room, seated near Mr. Willard. I watched the whole thing play out. It was almost like a play…or an orchestra concert. And my boss, the conductor. The accused sat down in their seats. Mascara cascaded in black, oozy blots down their faces, and their current attire did not help their case at all. Not like they could help it; they'd been in a jail cell all night long. However, I couldn't help wincing as I saw one of the women try to shimmy her pencil skirt down far enough so she could cross her stiletto-clad feet. I'm not a feminist, but _come on_, ladies! Get some class.

Awhile later, one of the accused got up for questioning. Mr. Willard also stood up, turning to hand me a couple papers before giving me a wink. I shook my head, willing myself not to laugh. _In the bag! _My boss has been to this kind of rodeo before.

It was always the same thing. Being the incredibly intelligent, generous, and joyous man that he was, my boss would attack a person with his greatest weapon: kindness. And his overflowing words of comfort and, dare I say it, love.

I watched, amusingly entranced, at this well seasoned practice. Willard gently asked for information from a very unwilling "Miss Green," then made a few jokes that only a well trained ear could detect, (the judge and several of the jury would chuckle along with me,) and as soon as the smeared tears begin to form, he magically conjured a handkerchief from his suit's breast pocket. Miss Green nodded her head in response to Willard's questions while simultaneously blowing her nose and her own case. I sighed. Whoever the opponent is, they never stood a chance. This man is just too good.

I shook my head, ready to zone out. Done deal, nothing more we can do here. It was Miss Green, though, who caught my attention through her teary blubbering.

"We-we didn't do it on purpose. I mean…" Sniff. "With all that's going on around the city, what with the _constant _killings…me and my sister, Lacy…we just got desperate! Just a couple nights ago, my friend Tito told me, he says, he says-" She blew her nose. "He _said_ that he saw a couple girls go into a club with this guy…and they didn't come back out of the private room! I knew one of them, too…" She seemed to calm herself down, now, and her eyes focused on someplace else, like she was seeing what she described. I frowned and looked to Mr. Willard. He, also, wore a grim expression as he gently patted her hand before ending his part in the court case.

On our walk back to the office, I decided to talk with Mr. Willard about my feelings towards these crazy murders. I felt…terrified. I remember a time when I was fifteen and decided to stay home on a weekend when my family went to New Hampshire. Well, let's just say that I _did_ watch scary movies and forgot to turn on all the lights, which is a bad combination when you're alone in the first place. And when a cat outside landed on a garbage can and knocked it over, I was petrified and called the police. That similar feeling was bubbling up in my stomach. Fear has a way with my body. My muscles clamp up, my palms become sweaty…and my stomach becomes Butterfly City. I knew I should talk to Sheila about this sort of thing, since she gets paid for it and all, but in all honesty, I felt more comforted by Willard than anybody else in the office.

"Sir," I prompted, trying to keep up. For an older man, this guy could power walk. "Hmm?" Wilson asked, fumbling through papers. _He doesn't even look where he's going!_ I thought, but then surmised that it probably didn't matter anyways. A wall would move _itself_ before daring to be where James Willard wanted to walk.

"I just wondered…if you knew anything about these killings? I mean I'm…I'm…a little freaked out, to tell the truth." He halted in this tracks. I caught the stack of papers that slid from my arms from the sudden stop.

"The murders in the city?" Willard asked gently, and I nodded in response. He sighed, the grim look back. I preferred his normal jolly expression better. His grey eyes looked down into mine. "These things cease with time. The authorities will soon catch the culprit, and all will settle into place once again." I relished in these comforting words. "What you need to worry about, Miss Sherwood, is keeping sure that you are safe. No going out after late hours, no matter who accompanies you. You do not seem the partying type, however…" I smiled softly at this despite myself, eliciting a small one of his own. He continued, "I would advise that you keep that trait untainted, at least during this crucial time. Keep your doors locked and your neighbors close. You do have good people around you, correct?" He knew, of course, that I was new to this city and neighborhood. I thought about that question. I needed protection, as does everyone else. I thought of what that word, protection, meant to me: strong, able arms…powerful, magnificent, but still gentle enough to hold me so carefully….

"Yes, yes I do," I replied to Willard, willing the cloudy reverie of thoughts that plagued my mind whenever _anything_ reminded me of him. Jerry, the man who hasn't left me for a single moment…even though he _did _leave me on my doorstep the previous night.

Satisfied, Mr. Willard began his brisk walk again toward his office. I closed my eyes before sitting in my chair, my hand resting on its back. "It seems, though…you _do_ have someone watching over you," Willard said, and my eyes opened immediately. I hadn't expected him to still be standing there.

"What do you mean, sir…?" My eyes followed his gaze, the old jolliness back in his eyes. On my desk rested a single black rose, clad in a red ribbon. Exactly like the one from my painting. Words tried to work their way out of my mouth, but they failed miserably.

My hand moved on its own accord. My ears and consciousness started to tune out everything else around me, giving it an unimportance, an insignificance; a slow, humming haze that didn't affect me at all. I touched the soft petals and their beautiful color. My finger traced down the stem and the stunning, crimson ribbon that adorned it. The feeling was familiar of being captured by something so radiant; it brought me back to reality.

"What is _that_?" Sheila's head poked from around the corner of my cubicle. More people were staring now, some vaguely curious, others hiding knowing smiles. Much like Sheila and Willard had right now. I glanced back at the rose then, almost embarrassed.

I hesitated. "Just, um…a gift?" I knew what they would ask next. And I also knew the answer. Yes, I knew who the rose was from. There could only be one. My family had liked the paining, and so had Abby, and the art teacher overlooking the assignment at the time; but none of them had sent this.

"You sure you didn't send it to yourself?" Sheila lowered her voice, and I shook my head in confusion. "Hm. Well, every girl does it at least once. I've got at _least _ten bouquets sent to my office every couple weeks. Keeps the fellas on their game." Sheila turned and walked away. Willard winked and left as well. I glanced back down at the flower and tried to get back to work without disturbing it.

However busy I tried to keep myself, my mind was plagued and eyes branded with the image of the black rose sitting not two inches away. I had been trying desperately to distract myself all day from him, but now with this rose was a constant reminder. Did Jerry really send it? And if he did, why? Did he simply like the painting and saw this in some store? Or…something else. Could he possibly…return my feelings?

I've known. I knew the second I saw him. These things just don't happen every other day. My slow brain might not have processed it at first, but I know now. There is no way around it; I am in love with this man. I am in love with Jerry.

I love the way he looks at me, how the stark brown eyes soften when they glance into mine. His natural beauty. That smile that makes my heart pound both faster yet slower all at the same time. His easy going character and…the way he touched me. Something in my mind clicked. If this rose was what I thought, and hoped meant, I was going to do something about it. Jerry had to know.

I looked at rose and at last picked it up. The smell was still so lovely. I was sorry to neglect it for as long as I did. Placing it in an old water bottle, I glanced at the clock. Five minutes until six.

I gathered my things and gently plucked the rose from the bottle. Lightness bounced in my step as I said goodbye to my co-workers and Mr. Willard. I tried to not run to my car. My heart pounded and speeding proved to be difficult not to do once I got onto the rode. I smiled and laughed and barely heard what was on the radio. I was in _love. _

The sun was going, expelling a new day, bringing back the night. Gigantic clouds were rolling in from the west, promising rain. Not like I noticed much of this. I barely had enough common sense to slow down for pedestrians when my car pulled into the neighborhood. Biting my lip, I pulled not into my own lot, but alongside Jerry's curb. I checked the mirror fleetingly before getting out and forced myself not to run up to the door. I took one, forced, shuddering breath before knocking and waited for about five seconds before it was opened…and there he was.

The next breath I took was slow, leveled, and ended with a smile. Because all I've ever wanted, ever needed, ever hoped for, was standing right in front of me. Jerry smiled back and my heart beat escaladed like its never done. He was wearing that white wife-beater again from the very first day I saw him. I moved closer, wanting to never be far away again.

"Hey," was all he said. My smile grew softer and I repeated the greeting back to him, only softer, full of meaning. Jerry's grin also softened, and he continued, "Do you want to come in?" I nodded, thinking yes, _yes_, but couldn't open my mouth.

He let me in and I walked through the threshold, not leaving his gaze for one second. He led me further into the house, into the kitchen. I wondered if he missed it when our hands brushed for a second. Once at our destination, only a few feet separated us. He spoke, "Did you get my rose?"

My heart leapt again, even though I knew the truth before. It was true. Jerry had sent the flower, the message, with meaning only he could understand.

I nodded again in answer. "Yeah, I did." My voice was so small, my smile leaving my face, my legs propelling me forward. I stopped right in front of him. He looked at me, waiting, wondering what I would do, what I would say. My breathing grew both harsher and softer at the same time. I closed the distance again, my chest brushing against his, my hands reaching up to cup his cheek and gently entwine in his hair. Jerry's hands came to the small of my back, pressing me to his body. Standing on my tip toes, I came closer than I ever was to him, and looked right into his eyes. Those eyes that stared into mine, that had watched my every careful step, that had flickered to my parted lips.

I chose, then. I chose right then and there. To give myself entirely to this man, because he was both simply and incredibly my…everything. Shock and warmth rattled my body and soul when I said, right there, in his arms, against his lips, "I'm in love with you." The terrifying and beautiful truth of it all sent an electrical jolt throughout my body. I felt him beneath my fingers, the porcelain skin so soft and smooth, the stubble on his cheek, the thick dark hair, the firm, toned body on which I was pressed onto. And his wonderful aroma that drifted into my lungs and filled me with him.

I gently pulled him towards me, but no force was needed. With one last look upon his face, I closed my eyes and felt his breath upon my lips before I pressed them upon his. All the times I had imagined them, wanted them, and looked at them didn't prepare me at all for the shock of his kiss. No space was left between us. Jerry pulled me in close as he gathered my dress at the small of my back into his hands. Our lips separated only to be gently and slowly joined again. My fingers left his hair and his cheek to rest upon his chest, my left covering his heart. Jerry slowly pulled his lips away, and pressed his forehead to mine. I smiled softly up into his eyes, which burned into mine as he covered my hand with his own.

"I love you," he said, low and breathtaking. I closed my eyes. The hand still holding my back left to touch my cheek. His thumb traced across and left a bit of wetness behind. I opened my eyes, a little confused, because I had no idea it was my own tears. He was smiling though, and I touched his lips, smiling back. Soon both his hands were upon my face, tracing an eyebrow, sweeping across my cheek, soft as a feather; and finally, across my lips. My breath hitched and those same lips were soon covered with his own.

Jerry's soft ministrations stilled during our kiss, and an arm reached down and hiked my body up. I gasped and wrapped my legs around him, which sent a bolt of shock down my spine, but he let out a soft groan against my lips. I stared at him in wonderment before his lips trailed down to my neck and breathed there. I shivered as the hot breath was replaced by tender lips. My hands reached from his shoulders to his head, now at my level; and once again intertwined my fingers through his hair. Soft rain started to tap quietly at Jerry's black windows. He pulled back from pressing his lips delicately against my throat. My gaze burned into his, and his legs started walking forward.

Our lips met again and again as he walked up the stairwell. My body barely shifted at all as our bodies were flush together, his hold never letting me go. I barely noticed anything but the magnificence of his touch until my back met the soft shift covering his bed. I opened my eyes to see Jerry hover over me, between my thighs, eyes searching for mine. I smiled up at him and cupped his cheek to pull him in for another kiss. His fingers traced my hand before pulling it away and down to press against his shirt. I looked questioningly at him before realizing what he wanted of me. Again I smiled, and took my other hand to the hem of the wife-beater and lifting it up. What it left behind made me breathless. Jerry's body was so beautiful… I couldn't help but stare. Toned muscles covered his chest and stomach. Jerry must have noticed my slow progress, because he chuckled and took the shirt from my hands and yanked it over his head. He then came closer, hovering over me once again. I returned his grin, but blushed as I lifted my hands to feel his chest. He sighed and again returned his lips to my neck. My breathing started to get heavy as my hands gently roved over the skin that was new to my eyes. I sighed and gasped as his lips pressed and traced over my thundering pulse point, and shivered when his tongue delved into the small cleft of my collar bone. Jerry glanced back into my eyes before I sat up, meeting his lips and guiding his hands to the buttons of my dress.

His eyes roved over my body, but slowly- taking everything in and finally resting upon my eyes. All of our clothes were strewn somewhere else, someplace not worth knowing. Our bodies, once entwined, slowly moved together, gently taking, lovingly giving. My eyes only left his when his lips covered mine. I felt his breath, his love, his touch and gave into it willingly, completely. The rain outside was now falling freely, creating a noise that almost drowned out sighs, groans, soft moans that echoed throughout the room. I whispered his name with abandon, softly saying _I love you_ in his ear when his gentle pace quickened. Ecstasy and fire consumed me and blackness threatened to overtake me as I clutched onto his back, his neck, his hair; our lips pushing air onto the other's, our foreheads pressed together. The last roll of movement from his body and into my mine stilled, and our bodies relaxed. I opened my eyes to see him smiling softly at me. After one last, final kiss to my lips, his head drifted down to my neck and stopped to rest. I cradled his head there with one hand while the other kept his place caressing his back. I felt his kiss at my pulse point. His body still within my hold… still covered with the perspiration from the love that we had made. I drifted off to a quiet sleep… so content to lie there with his body covering my own.


End file.
